


Change

by Uozumi



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Superwolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uozumi/pseuds/Uozumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester was Adrian Harris’ emergency contact. Set between season seven and eight of SPN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> **Fandom** _Supernatural_ / _Teen Wolf_ (2011) (SuperWolf)  
>  **Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Adrian Harris, Amelia Richardson, Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski, Sam Winchester; some Amelia/Sam, but it’s not a focus  
>  **Genre** Crossover/Drama/Het/Supernatural  
>  **Rating** PG  
>  **Word Count** 2,602  
>  **Disclaimer** Supernatural c. WB, CW; Teen Wolf c. MTV  
>  **Summary** Sam Winchester was Adrian Harris’ emergency contact. Set between season seven and eight of SPN.  
>  **Warning(s)** pre-fic character death, possible spoilers up through _Supernatural_ season eight episode twenty-two, spoilers up through _Teen Wolf_ season three episode four  
>  **Notes** I’ve integrated Dean into the _Teen Wolf_ world effectively. I suppose now it’s time to integrate Sam. In the first season of _Teen Wolf_ I got the impression Harris was an ex-hunter and it’s a headcanon I can’t shake. A pattern of behavior with Harris and dangerous creatures also inspired parts of this fic. It’s also why I think he would gravitate towards a friendship with Sam, who is, if we’re being honest, potentially one of the most dangerous mythical creatures. This exists in the same word as my fanfics _Crush_ and _Nobody’s Ever Ready_ , but it’s not necessary to read those fics to understand this fic.

**_Change_ **

The phone call came months after Dean, Castiel, and Dick Roman disappeared to Purgatory. Sam was still trying to find his place after hunting and had nothing to tie him down as he traveled to Beacon Hills to identify the body. As he traveled across the country, the news picked up on the serial killer. By the time Sam arrived at the local hospital, the radio could only talk about the victims, especially the most recent one.

Three months into Sam’s first year at Stanford, he was possessed and eating nearly every demonic student on campus. Out alone one night prowling for more demons, Sam came across a man who was a little older than Dean was. The beginning of the encounter was still fuzzy from the demon blood high, but the memory gained suddenly clarity when Sam dropped to his knees near the Oval. He panted and bowed his head. Everything tasted like copper and his ears rang. 

The man knelt across from Sam and waited. When Sam met his eyes, the man finally spoke, “You’re hungry,” he said. 

Sam blinked. He felt like he had vomited. There was a black sludge on the ground. He wiped his mouth but it was now dry. “Actually…yeah.” He frowned in confusion. “How’d you know?”

“Experience.” The man reached into his pocket and produced a granola bar with red fruit. Once Sam took the bar, he said, “I’m Adrian Harris.” 

“I’m Sam Winchester,” Sam said. He scrutinized the wrapper. It reminded him of the snacks Brady would slip him in their math course. He looked back at Harris. “Harris like the hunting family?”

“Years ago,” Harris said. “I gave it up before enlisting.” Harris’ hair was still cropped military short and his skin still an almost pleasantly burnt color. The more Sam looked at Harris, the more he realized he had seen Harris drilling younger military recruits on campus. “I could ask you the same. I’ve heard of the Winchesters.” Everyone had. 

“I don’t hunt anymore,” Sam said. “I just want to be normal. I want to be a lawyer.”

Harris nodded. He helped Sam to his feet. “I found overseas that if I tried to communicate with most paranormal threat, we could avoid some situations.” He handed Sam a slim business card. “If you need anything, my cell number is on this.” He found Sam’s gaze. “If we want our lives to change, we should work together.” 

Sam took the card. “I’ll think about it.” He pocketed it and then opened up the granola bar. “Thanks for the food.” 

Harris nodded and the two parted ways. 

Over the course of the school year, Sam and Harris ended up in the same place at the same time frequently. Some memories were clearer than others were for Sam. It was near the start of summer semester of Sam’s first year when they spoke the first and only time about their pasts as hunters. Sam told Harris about his mother’s death and how his father and brother just did not get him. Harris was brought up surrounded by books and tomes on almost anything a person could imagine might be real. Harris did not get to go to university at the average age. He was fighting a rather nasty vampire infestation in Washington state. Once that was done, he enlisted and decided to do his service before coming to Stanford to earn his education degree while training new recruits. 

Sam listened to Harris’ story. He snorted after Harris told a story of encountering a Mesopotamian monster. “It sounds like you have a bad habit of trying to help the more dangerous ones.” 

Harris leaned back on the park bench. “Sometimes talking first works better than throwing salt at something until it shrieks and disperses into nature.” 

Sam sipped at water that claimed to be a raspberry flavored iron supplement. The iron came from demon blood. “So, what am I then?” Sam looked at Harris. “If you were out there trying to communicate with an abandoned mushhushshu,” Sam clarified. 

Harris smiled a cryptic smile. “We both know what you are, Sam.” After a pause he said, “A good friend.” 

Sam nodded, but he could not shake the feeling that perhaps he was yet another monster Harris tried to help. 

Harris’ last year at Stanford was the year before Jess died. Sam had been dating her for six months and this was the first time Sam had a chance to introduce her to Harris. She was helping them empty Harris’ apartment so he could move to Beacon Hills. The night was dry and hot. 

“So?” Sam asked after Jess took a small lamp to the car. “What do you think?” He did not need Harris’ approval, but he was curious. 

Harris finished running a damp cloth along what remained in the apartment. Once Sam and Jess left, Harris could lock up and turn in the keys. “She’s very human,” Harris said as though maybe Jess was worryingly human. “If you remain yourself around her, it might just work out.”

Sam nodded. “I’ve got a good feeling about this,” he said. He smiled. 

“If you run into any trouble, you can call me no matter what time it is,” Harris said. 

“I won’t run into trouble,” Sam said. He touched Harris’ arm and squeezed it. “I’ll see you around.” 

Harris and Sam kept contact over the following year. When Dean abruptly appeared and Jess died, Sam fell out of contact with Harris. Sam and Dean were in Beacon Hills briefly around the time the local sheriff’s wife died. Sam and Harris did not cross paths again until only a few months before Dean’s disappearance when Sam and Dean started hunting for the ingredients necessary to send the leviathans back to Purgatory. Not many knew of the restricted section of the Beacon Hills’ library. The contents made Sam think that a hunter had donated their books or gathered all the books as a librarian the last time Sam was in Beacon Hills. 

Dean was off in the woods searching for the next ingredient for the ritual. Beacon Hills was unique. The werewolf population was large, but a rare species that did not consume hearts to survive. Dean knew that if Sam could find something in the restricted section, they might have more options in fighting the leviathans. 

Sam signed in with an assumed name and entered the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves three rows deep. In the center of the room were two desks pushed facing each other. Harris sat at one of the desk, leaning over an old book with a few others stacked up beside it. Harris looked up from the book when Sam entered. 

“Adrian?” Sam asked. It felt like a lifetime since he last heard from Harris. 

“Sam,” Harris greeted him. “I guess it was a matter of time before you appeared.” 

Sam set his backpack down in the chair across from Harris. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to help leviathans like you tried to help,” Sam almost said ‘me,’ but quickly substituted, “demons.” As the Apocalypse fell into place, Harris’ friendship began to make more sense. Sam was the biggest monster on campus and Harris had tried to help him as he tried to help any other dangerous creature. 

“No,” Harris said. He carefully turned the page he was studying to the start page of another monster. He was protecting the name of the creature lest the brothers decide to hunt it. 

“I won’t interfere with whatever you’re doing,” Sam said. He began to look through the books. “You do something unique.”

Harris did not answer. He watched Sam. 

Sam pulled a few tomes. He sat down across from Harris. “Know anything about leviathans?”

“I’ve stocked up on Borax and began eating strictly organic years ago, but the leviathans avoid Beacon Hills,” Harris said. 

“How?” Sam asked. 

Harris flipped the page back over to reveal the drawing of a rather large lizard humanoid. “It’s called the Kanima. It’s a creature created when a werewolf bites an alienated orphan.” He ran his fingertips along a line of text. “Someone controls him. I want to break the cycle.”

“So you know who it is?” Sam asked. His eyes scanned the text upside down. From what Sam could read, the kanima sounded like the ultimate weapon. 

“Yes,” Harris said, “but not who his master is.”

“So, the leviathans are afraid of it?” Sam asked. He opened one of his books. He could talk and read at the same time. 

“No,” Harris said. “His master has turned him into a murderer. That’s not why the leviathans avoid Beacon Hills. They know what’s heading towards us. The leviathans will let Beacon Hills tear itself apart on its own.”

Sam frowned. “You make it sound like what’s coming is bigger than leviathans and the kanima.”

There was another cryptic smile, but Harris did not elaborate and they lapsed into quiet study. 

The memory faded. Sam was at the hospital in Beacon Hills. Sam entered the hospital. Sheriff Stilinski was waiting for him in the lobby. 

“Mr. Winchester?” Stilinski asked. He did not show if he recognized Sam. 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I got a call about Adrian. What’s going on?” He already knew. The story leaked to the national news once Harris became the latest victim. Sam could almost reach out and touch Sheriff Stilinski’s stress. 

Stilinski put a paternal hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. He died. We got there too late.” 

Sam let out a deep breath. He had to think about looking sad. He was sad, but it could not compete with the emptiness of losing Dean too many times. “I guess I have to make a formal identification?”

Stinlinski nodded. “You were the only name he left for an emergency,” Stilinski said. He led Sam down the hallway. 

“We were friends,” Sam said, answering the unasked question. “I’ve known him a long time.” He tried to look young. He did not want to get dragged into whatever ritual was happening in Beacon Hills. He promised himself when Dean went to Purgatory that he would never hunt again. He planned to keep that promise. 

Stilinski led them to a chilled room tucked out of the way. There were several bodies with the sheets pulled over their heads. The hospital could not handle the sudden increased body count. Stilinski led them to one of the longer figures and looked at Sam. When he thought Sam was ready, Stilinski pulled back the sheet. There was a nasty wound across Harris’ throat. Sam’s eyes followed it down and then along the stitches of the Y-incision. Sam took a deep breath. He barely noticed the smell of death. “That’s Adrian Harris,” Sam said. 

“Do you know anyone he might have had a problem with?” Stilinski asked. “Anyone who might have targeted him?”

Sam considered his words. “He tried to help people with problems.” Sam frowned. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew the,” Sam tried to think of an innocuous word, “person who did this.”

“Did you have a problem?” Stilinski asked. He carefully pulled the sheet back up over Harris’ face. 

Sam shifted his weight. “I had a…drinking problem.” He rubbed his arm. “When will you release the body?”

“I don’t know yet,” Stilinski said. “The case is still unfolding.” He reached into a pocket and handed a card to Sam. “If you can think of anything that might help, here’s my card.”

Sam took it and pocketed it. “Thanks.”

“It might be a while before I can release the body,” Stilinski said. “I can call you when I can release him.” 

Sam nodded. “Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Good luck.” He would leave it in Stilinski’s hands. 

“Thanks,” Stilinski said. He saw Sam out to the lobby. Once Sam was back in the Impala, he leaned back in the driver’s seat and let out a long sigh. He had to get away. Sam drove out of Beacon Hills and eventually ended up on I-10. He continued driving until he accidentally hit a dog near Kermit, Texas and met the local vet Amelia Richardson. 

The Beacon Hills serial killer continued to make the news as Sam developed his relationship with Amelia. It was winter when his cell phone rang with Stilinski on the other end of the line. The investigation no longer needed Harris’ body. Sam promised to drive up on the weekend. 

The funeral was larger than Sam anticipated. It was Sam and Amelia, who came to offer emotional support. A group of teenagers joined them along with some of the teachers at the school. Sheriff Stilinski also appeared. The group gathered around the casket near the gravesite. 

“…and the earth claims its own,” the undertaker said, “so that it may mold our dead into things we can appreciate long after their time has passed.” He paused. “If anyone would like to say things, speak now.”

There was a long silence, no one sure who should speak first. Sam cleared his throat. “When I needed a friend the most, Adrian was there. He helped me when I didn’t realize it.” Sam looked around the group of strangers and back at the casket. “Wherever he is, I hope he rests peacefully.” Sam felt Amelia squeeze his hand tightly. He returned the gesture. 

“He helped me too,” Bobby Finstock said. “Even Greenberg can attest to that.” No one around them appeared to be Greenberg. No one questioned the mention of this Greenberg either. 

As the children offered awkward thoughts about their teacher, a movement in the trees caught Sam’s attention. His eyes went to the woods nearby. He thought he saw a man about Harris’ age, but no one was in sight any longer. 

The funeral broke up soon after. Sam began to walk back towards the Impala with Amelia. 

“Wait! Wait.” Stiles Stilinski hurried after them. 

Sam stopped walking. Amelia touched his arm with affection and then went on ahead to the Impala. After a moment, Sam remembered Stiles. When Dean and Sam first came to Beacon Hills, Stiles was the only person left in the school when Sam and Dean rid the building of ghosts. He remembered Dean mentioning running into Stiles in the woods months ago. Stiles skidded to a halt in front of Sam. 

Stiles reached into his pocket. “I’ve got some research I thought your brother might know something about what’s going on.” He pulled out a scrap paper with an e-mail scrawled across it. “Do you know where he is?”

Sam took a deep breath. He licked his lips and gave Stiles a sympathetic look. “Dean…Dean died.” Sam watched Stiles expression change. “I’m sorry. I don’t hunt. Maybe try the vet?” Sam could not remember the man’s name, but he always seemed to know what was happening when Sam and Dean needed someone in the know. 

“I already…” Stiles voice trailed. He swallowed and nodded. “Okay. How…How’d he die?” 

“A spell,” Sam said. It was the easiest way to explain it. He cleared his throat. “Try to stay safe.”

Stiles nodded and took a few steps back. “Sorry. Bye.” He started back towards Scott who had been standing off to the side watching them. Sam let out a small breath. There was something about Scott that reminded him of other werewolves he encountered. Sam felt like if he did not leave Beacon Hills soon, he might fall back into hunting without even trying. Sam turned away and walked back to the Impala. It was time to go home.

**The End**


End file.
